My Heart Belongs in Ruby City, Idaho

by Susanne Dietze

  “She might. She’s smart, aren’t you, Madgie?” Come on, Madge. We’ve got places to be. “We’ll buy some nice oats in Silver City for you.”

  “Rebecca, that’s pointless.”

  Her patience snapped. “What’s pointless is you petting her instead of urging her in this direction.”

  He threw up his hands. “Fine. I’ll stop soothing my animal so we can get your precious annulment.” He clambered back into the seat and released the brake.

  Sheila tugged, but Madge stood still. So did Rebecca, who was rooted, hands on hips, in the middle of the so-called road. “Precious? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why’d you use a barbed word like that? This annulment isn’t precious. It’s necessary, and you’re hardly urging the mules on—”

  “I’m trying.” Tad puffed out an exasperated breath. “I don’t know why you—never mind.”

  “Why I what?” Look at me, Tad.

  He didn’t. His gaze stayed fixed ahead.

  Her hands fisted. “Say it.”

  He didn’t, so she threw her hands in the air. “I know you’re angry you’re missing work for this when it’s my fault for not speaking up when I heard Mr. Orr call you Tad and I thought he said Ted.”

  “Missing work is the least of my worries, and this isn’t your fault. I called you Reese, and when you said Rice, I thought R-h-y-s must be pronounced different and I didn’t say a word, either. Our wedding was an accident.”

  “And Theodore’s the one paying the highest price for it.”

  “He said that?” Tad’s entire manner changed. He yanked on the brake—as if Madge was going anywhere—and hurried down to her.

  He hadn’t been this close to her since their wedding, and his proximity brought her back to that day. Just as she had during their wedding, she could now see the green flecks in his eyes and the dew of sweat at his temples. Her gaze fell to his lips. Her hand lifted, as if moving on its own volition to land over his heart, just an inch or so lower than his deputy badge—

  Her hand jerked back and covered her mouth. What had they been talking about? Oh, yes, Theodore. “He didn’t say anything, but how could this not be hard on him? Especially after what happened with Dottie,” she said from behind her hand.

  “But Dottie isn’t your fault. Neither is our mistaken marriage. He shouldn’t make you feel guilty for something beyond your control.”

  “He’s not. I just do.” She forced her gaze away before she did something stupid again, like almost touch his chest.

  “You care about him and his feelings.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “But you don’t love him.”

  Her head jerked up. “What?”

  “You don’t love Theodore.” Each word was clear as the crystal Theodore sold in the store, and just as costly.

  She swallowed. Hard. “Love is an action. A choice.”

  “You can choose to put him first and work for his good, sure, and that’s love, but you know what kind of love I mean. That pull like a magnet’s inside him and you’re drawn to him and you can’t think about anything but being with him.”

  She couldn’t lie. “No, not yet.”

  “You never will. It’s been a month, and he hasn’t even courted you properly. No walks or suppers or evenings in Mrs. Horner’s parlor—”

  “How would you know that?”

  “Everyone knows.”

  How humiliating, that all of Ruby City noted Theodore’s lack of attention. Her chin lifted. “He’s had no need to court me. I already said yes.”

  “Has he even kissed you?”

  “He’s too honorable a gentleman to do that when I’m officially married to you, not that it’s any of your business.”

  His brows rose, as if he would kiss her if he planned on marrying her. Heat coursed up her neck, and thankfully, he looked away. “Marrying him is a mistake. You don’t love each other.”

  She might love Theodore someday. She’d pray for it, and she had decades to try to make it happen.

  Except that sort of love, the magnetic pull Tad described, didn’t come from years of effort. And oh—How dare Tad stand there and judge her, anyway?

  “Did you love Rebekah Rhys?” Her arrow hit its mark, and his face hardened. “For a man who answered an advertisement for a bride, you seem to have forgotten how this works. Marriages are founded on compatibility and respect, not kisses—”

  “You aren’t compatible with Theodore. And I’m not so sure you respect each other the way you want to.” His eyes were softer than his tone. “The way he treated you when you stitched up Bowe’s head?”

  Tad’s observation pierced the part of her that was already tender from Theodore’s actions, but Theodore was to be her husband. They’d started to mend their rift, and she needed to make sure she didn’t harm it further. “Theodore’s protective after what Bowe did at the restaurant, that’s all. Bowe did hold me captive for a spell.”

  “But you helped him anyway. It was brave and selfless and beautiful.”

  Theodore had called it uncouth, and his judgment had made her feel unseemly, like her hands were dirty from more than Bowe’s sticky blood and the alcohol Jeroboam poured over the wound.

  “Theodore’s disapproval doesn’t mean I should break my commitment to him.”

  “Your desire to stay true to your commitment is something I admire, but you aren’t married to him yet.”

  No, she was married to Tad, but that wouldn’t last more than the afternoon, if Madge ever picked up her feet. “Love like you’re talking about is a luxury I can’t afford. So is taking a risk like you are, starting a ranch, when you could have more stability with your pa.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “We aren’t talking about me. This is about you.”

  “You don’t understand what it’s like to be hungry and alone. I spent the last six years afraid. Pa died; Johnny went to California; our other brother Raymond enlisted and died; and I had no one and no means.”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  Rebecca shut her eyes, because looking at Tad weakened her resolve. “After emancipation, I was hired as a maid in Independence. Little pay, but room and board. I thought working for a woman would be safe, but it wasn’t.”

  “You said the house served as a hospital for a spell. The war must’ve been close.”

  “There were two battles in Independence, but I don’t mean the war. She—my employer, Mrs. MacGruder—rationed my food, saying it was on account of the shortages, but I shopped for us, so I knew better. She withheld food from me to toy with me, or punish me. I was so hungry, and I slept on the floor in the wet attic.”

  “That’s barbaric.”

  “When her son visited, he’d corner me in the pantry or in the courtyard where I did laundry. His mother never saw, and he didn’t touch me, until one time.” She opened her eyes. “I slapped him. Hard.”

  Tad’s eyes were no longer soft. Fury turned them almost black. “Did he stop after that?”

  “Yes, but he made my life even more miserable, lying about me to his mother. She denied me meals and insisted my work was so shoddy I needed to stay up all night scrubbing things. I fell asleep making her bed once, and she had her son whip me. I’m sure you’re wondering why I didn’t leave.”

  His jaw clenched. “You had nowhere else to go.”

  “And I was afraid Johnny wouldn’t be able to find me again, a foolish hope, because I knew he’d never come home. But then the lower floor of the house was commandeered for a hospital, and Mrs. MacGruder had no choice but to let me nurse. I fainted the first day, and the doctors fed me from their rations, so I was eating better than I had in months. Considering how food shortages affected us in the South, that says something.” She laughed a little.

  “You were abused and mistreated, Rebecca.”

  “But I still shouldn’t have—Tad, before the army came, after I was whipped, I stole Mrs. MacGruder’s food.”
>
  “You were entitled to square meals, Rebecca.”

  Her head shook violently. “I snuck in the pantry and I ate a whole loaf of bread and a tin of peaches, and I lied the next morning and told her the bread had gone moldy and the peaches had been eaten the week before. I was so filled with shame, I vowed I would never again be in a position where I would be tempted to steal and lie like that.”

  Tad’s arms folded. “So marrying Theodore will protect you from stealing again?”

  “From being hungry. From resorting to—that.”

  “I can’t imagine what you went through. But only God’s strength will keep you from stumbling. Theodore can’t do that for you.”

  The admonition nipped at her conscience. She’d thought herself above certain sins, but the truth was, she was capable of anything. “Theodore is God’s provision, a way out, and a future. I can’t expect you to understand. You’re a man, so you can ride off or stay put. You have family.”

  “So do you, now. You have a home here.” His hand rested on hers.

  “With Theodore.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

  “With all of us. Mrs. Horner. Pa. Johnny. Me.” His gaze fixed on her lips. “There was something between us on our wedding day, Rebecca. We were both promised to other people—”

  “I still am.” She would not discuss any attraction she may hold for him. And if he felt it for her, too—no, she couldn’t even think of it. “I chose Theodore, on our wedding day and three weeks ago when I left you in the mercantile, and again yesterday when I asked for this annulment.”

  “Don’t choose him today, Rebecca.”

  He was looking at her with such tenderness that the marrow melted inside her bones. He cared for her—it was in his eyes and in everything he’d done for her good since her arrival. But that magnetism he spoke of—that she felt for him—would someday dissolve like candy floss. It was pretty and sweet, but it never lasted. It wasn’t enough to base a marriage on.

  The foundation she chose was commitment, a solid home, something she would never have if she allowed herself to love a lawman. She could never live worrying about her husband every day he was on duty.

  And yet—she was so, so tempted to fall in love with Tad. It would be easy.

  “I have to marry Theodore.” The words squeezed out, past her near-to-bursting heart clogging her throat.

  Ka-whack. Rebecca jumped as the report of a rifle reverberated off the mountains. Tad gripped her shoulders and pushed her under the wagon.

  Would there be another shot? Who’d done it? A hunter, or, oh mercy, it could be the Gang of Four again. Rebecca curled her knees into her chest.

  At that moment, Madge decided to move. The wagon lurched with Rebecca still underneath.

  Her heart thundering in her ears, Rebecca cried out in alarm.

  “The wagon’s braked,” Tad hollered. “Stay put.”

  She scrambled to her hands and knees anyway. “Where are you going?”

  “To make sure it’s safe for us to get out of here.” His footsteps disappeared from her view as he dashed up the ragged road around the curve.

  If it was the Gang, he’d be outnumbered. Rebecca crawled out from the wagon and chased after him. A ridiculous thing to do, considering she couldn’t protect him if she tried.

  I can’t do anything, Lord, except cause trouble wherever I go.

  She ran around the hilly curve, almost colliding with Tad where he’d come to a stop. She skidded on the gravel. “What’s happened?”

  He didn’t need to answer, because she saw it then. A woman slumped on the side of the road, writhing in the dirt. Blood darkened the back of her pale green dress.

  Rebecca rushed to her side. It didn’t take a skilled nurse to determine the woman had been shot in the back, clear through, but the wound was high enough that nothing vital should have been affected. “Can you speak?”

  “It hurts,” the woman wailed.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Rebecca tugged off her shawl, wadded it, and shoved it against the wound to staunch the flow.

  “Ow!” The woman curled up, her face obscured by a curtain of near-black hair.

  “Who did this to you?” Tad’s words were for the woman, but his gaze scanned the area, searching for threats.

  “They took my horse.”

  “Was it four men?” Tad eyed the road now. Nothing else had been left behind, except an upended brocade valise that didn’t appear to have been touched. That wasn’t like the Gang of Four to leave luggage unopened, but then again, they’d never shot anyone until one fired on Tad.

  “Yes.” The answer came out through gritted teeth.

  So it wasn’t some rogue assailant. Rebecca’s pulse skittered at the knowledge that the men who’d robbed her and shot Tad were so close.

  Tad’s fingers alighted on Rebecca’s shoulder. “What can I do?”

  She shook off the fear that nipped at her neck. “Get the wagon.”

  He hurried back the way they’d come. God, You told Balaam’s donkey what to do. Urge Madge to move, please.

  In the meantime, Rebecca checked the woman for other injuries. She’d finished examining the lady’s slender torso and legs—an inspection best conducted before Tad’s return, for modesty’s sake—and was about to check her arms when the familiar sound of wheels on gravel carried from around the bend. Thank You, Lord.

  “Madge must’ve listened to you.” Tad pulled the brake and leapt from the wagon.

  Madge tossed her head, as if in acknowledgment, but Sheila just blinked.

  Tad crouched to his haunches. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t think of a way to get you into the wagon without hurting you, so I’ll be quick.”

  She grunted her assent, and his arms slid under her. She screamed, arching her back and twisting toward them. Her hair slid away from her face. She was young and exceedingly pretty, with a pert nose, full lips, and lush lashes. She was also in terrible pain. That was probably why Tad didn’t lift her.

  “Go ahead, Tad,” Rebecca encouraged. He didn’t want to hurt the woman, but he had to in order to help her. “Smooth and steady.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. His lips were parted and his eyes were wide.

  “What is it?” Rebecca bent over him. “Is it your shoulder? It must hurt you to lift her.”

  “Dottie?” The name came out in a strangled whisper. “Is it really you?”

  After all this time, Dottie was back. How Tad had missed her when she left ten months ago, wondered where she’d gone, prayed for her.

  It hadn’t taken long to recognize she’d never been the woman he cared for, though, and he’d healed. He wouldn’t have sought to marry Rebekah Rhys if he hadn’t. Then he’d met Rebecca, and his world turned inside out and upside down.

  Or so he’d thought, because now he didn’t know what was going on inside him, except that his throat felt like he was strangling from the inside.

  “Howdy, Tad.” Her bloodless lips cracked a strained attempt at a smile.

  The red of Rebecca’s skirt brushed his leg as she squatted beside him. “You mean, your—Dottie?”

  “Yes.” And she was bleeding in his arms while he gaped like a fool. He hoisted her from the ground and carried her to the wagon. Good thing they’d brought blankets so the judge’s ride home would be more comfortable. Nevertheless, Dottie cried out when he gently lowered her to the wagon bed.

  She’d been shot and left for dead on the road. No matter what had happened between them in the past, the idea that someone had done this to her made his stomach revolt.

  Rebecca hauled the valise and shoved it over the side of the wagon, where it landed beside Dottie. “I presume this is yours.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dottie winced as the wagon bed jiggled but looked up at Tad. “Is this your wife?”

  If she only knew. “This is Rebecca.”

  “And I’m going to take care of you.” If Rebecca was bothered by Dottie’s identity as the woman he and Theodore had fought over, she
hid it well behind a mask of efficiency as she settled Dottie into a more comfortable position. “The Silver City doctor is up at the mines, so we’ll return to Ruby City, but your wound needs compression now. The wagon bed can do that from below you, but can you press down on the front?”

  Dottie nodded, but Tad touched Rebecca’s shoulder. “You do it while I drive.”

  “Go find Sheriff Adkins in Silver City.” She tried to smile. “I can manage Madge and Sheila. It’s not the first time I’ve handled a wagon. Maybe the second time, but it’ll be fine. Go on.”

  He should. It was his duty as deputy to pursue justice, and the Gang had literally been in this spot mere minutes ago. Unfortunately, he was alone and without transport, so Rebecca was right. He needed men and mounts, and Silver City was closer than home.

  Yet he hesitated. “I’m sorry, Rebecca.” About leaving her, facing the Gang again, having Dottie thrust on her. But not about challenging her.

  “Be safe, Tad.” She clambered into the wagon, her eyes soft. Then she released the brake and flicked the reins. “Come on, Madge, Sheila.”

  Madge obeyed before Sheila did—this time. The wagon lurched as it made the awkward turn around, and while Rebecca looked uncomfortable with the reins, she proved capable.

  He couldn’t watch them go farther. He started his footrace to Silver City, his thoughts a jumble, his prayers more groans than words.

  One thing was for certain. After today, nothing would be the same again for anyone he cared about.

  Murmuring prayers for Tad, Dottie, and the mules’ feet to move a little quicker, Rebecca drove as fast as she dared back to Ruby City. The street was blessedly empty, so she was able to navigate straight to the barbershop, pulling the wagon to a jerky but thorough stop. “Mr. Wilkie!”

  “What’s the hollerin’ about? Where’s the deputy?” Ulysses jogged to the side of the wagon and assisted her down. Then he peered in the wagon bed. “Why, you ain’t the judge.”

  Dottie groaned.

  Rebecca flung open the barbershop door. Wilkie stood over a barbering chair, a straight razor in one hand and Jeroboam’s lathered chin in the other. At least he was sober. “Wait on the bench if you want a trim.”